


The Lilac Fairy

by cloudybreaths



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: 3:00am and i'm not ok, M/M, Writer AU, there's some feels man
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2017-12-27
Packaged: 2019-02-22 13:11:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13167633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cloudybreaths/pseuds/cloudybreaths
Summary: It wasn’t like the handsome man stayed at the hot springs the whole day, just lounging around. He probably had business he needed to take care of. And what would he even say? Hi, I think you’re hot, and I’m gay, wanna hang? Also, I like dogs?





	The Lilac Fairy

The words aren’t usually there for Yuuri when he really needs them, so at times like these when he’s left with only article adjectives and empty white spaces, it just goes to show him that he really is just another writer. He’s just another writer whose book didn’t take off. He’s just another writer who went to college to get a degree in English. He’s just another twenty-three year old.

He loves writing, though. He started off just writing down his thoughts, his worries, his fears, and eventually they became stories. But sometimes it feels like something inside of him is yearning. 

It’s a dull ache that goes as deep as his bones, like a misplaced melancholy in his marrow. He figures that it’s insomnia and the lack of inspiration that’s got him feeling lethargic. So, in lieu of staying locked up in his apartment in Detroit, he goes back home to Japan.

He’s not sure how long he’ll stay at home, but he quits his part-time job anyway. It’s probably a decision he’ll regret later, but he doesn’t think about it too much. He yearns for home, for the hot springs, and for maybe some inspiration. He hasn’t written anything in months. He’s afraid he never will. 

“Yuuri!” Minako twirls around and opens a banner that says ‘Welcome Home Yuuri!’ on it. “Welcome back!” 

He instantly wishes the world could just swallow him whole. 

“How-how did you know when my flight would be?!” Yuuri screeches, but it immediately ceases when Minako tightly wraps her arms around him. 

“Glad you’re home, you cutlet bowl,” she whispers, and Yuuri hugs her. 

He’s glad too.

The train ride home is filled with Minako shooting questions out faster than Yuuri can answer, scolding him about his weight gain, and filling him in on what’s happened the last five years that he wasn’t home. 

“I’m not getting many students these days,” Minako sighs as they get off the train and begin walking to the last hot springs in Hasetsu, “and I always thought you would be one of my students. What a missed opportunity! You could have made it big as a dancer, or even an ice skater.”

Yuuri’s body suddenly shivers in the cold, frigid air. He frowns, and there it is again, that yearning. 

“But I’m so happy that you published your first book!” Minako gives him a wide grin. “You’re going to have to give me an autographed copy.” 

“Oh, it wouldn’t be worth it.” Yuuri chuckles softly, lowering his eyes to the ground. “It’s not worth reading.” 

“Yuuri,” Minako begins sternly, “I am going to buy a copy of your book and have you autograph it for me, because I know much writing that book meant to you. It was a big step forward, and I am going to support you through it all.”

Yuuri looks to Minako, her arms crossed and eyes hard, and he smiles. 

“Thank you,” he says, and she smiles back. 

His mom almost begins to cry when she sees him. His dad tightly pulls him into an embrace. His sister pats him on the back, and he knows she missed him as much as mom and dad. Dread begins to settle in Yuuri’s stomach. He regrets not calling them more often, or even trying to visit sooner. 

When he’s alone in his room later, after having eaten three pork cutlet bowls and taken a bath, he cries. The sobs shake his body, and there’s the ache again, the yearning. It’s almost as if something was supposed to be different. Like there was the entire picture right in front of him, but he couldn’t see it all at once. 

He sits up and wraps the blanket around his body, his breathing returning to normal. He moves to his desk, still enveloped in the warmth of his blankets, and he sees his keyboard in the corner of the room. He thinks maybe he could have been a pianist in another life. 

Tears suddenly begin to fill his eyes and run down his cheeks again. His chest swells, and the dread in his stomach grows. He suddenly thinks the walls look too bare, and he’s missing someone next to him in bed, and that maybe he had a different phone case. Thoughts race through his mind, everything goes into rapid-fire, and he’s caught in the crossfire. 

There’s a melody that tugs at him in the back of his mind, but he can’t place it. It’s soft and his heart aches, as though it's sad that it can’t remember. As though it's sad that he can’t remember. It’s a soft, forgotten melody, and he falls asleep at his laptop searching for it. 

He dreams of two princes dancing on a frozen pond. 

Yuuri never had a dog, but he always wanted one. The only reason why he couldn’t get one was because Mari was allergic, and he couldn’t afford to get one while in college. Maybe I’ll get a poodle, he thinks as he helps his mom deliver meals to the guests. 

For the next two weeks, he helps around the hot spring and tries not to think about his book. He tries not to think about how terribly written everything was. He tries not to think about how fast pace it was, how everything about the story felt rushed and incomplete. He tries not to think about the ending, about how many loose ends there were. He tries not to think about how he could have done better. 

When he tries not to think, the world spins and blurs and his chest tightens. He can’t breathe. When he can’t breathe, sometimes his mom is there, or his dad, or Mari. Sometimes, he expects a different pair of arms to embrace him. 

He tries not to think about it.

Minako probably went to go buy his book the very night he came home and told her not to read his book. She’s probably read the book and doesn’t know how to tell him that it really is a terrible book and he could have done something better with his life. He would share that sentiment. 

He tries not to think about it. 

He doesn’t actually leave the hot springs, other than to go jogging and see the beach. As a chubby child, he was excluded from most things, and thus kept to himself. Which in turn lead to him staying at home more and writing as an outlet. He didn’t have friends he stayed in contact with, but he vaguely remembers Yuuko. She competed in the Grand Prix Final last year. 

If he had started skating, would he have made it to the Grand Prix Finals? 

The ache returns, and he tries not to think about it. 

“Yuuri!” his mom calls him over from where he’s just delivered someone’s food. 

“What’s wrong-” Yuuri suddenly stops as he sees a brown poodle sitting by the door. It wags its tail happily, and when it sees Yuuri, it bolts straight to him. 

“A handsome man said to take his luggage to his room with his dog!” his mom winks, and Yuuri weakly smiles at her as the poodle licks his face. 

His parents knew he was gay. They accepted him, and he was more than happy that they did. Of course, that didn’t stop them from asking if he had a boyfriend instead of a girlfriend now. Or if he was planning on getting married, or even having kids.

Which was fine, Yuuri thought as he lugged the handsome man’s suitcases to one of the open guest rooms. In college, Yuuri dated here and there, but nothing really … happened. He expected some sort of spark, and sure, he was happy with some of them, but there was still that ache. 

Besides, he couldn’t date anyone right now. He needed to figure himself out first. He needed to write again. He needed-

“Hello!” a man with a towel wrapped around his waist barged into the room as Yuuri was setting the suitcases on the ground. The poodle barked at the man, as though in greeting, then settled on top of the bed. 

“Um-uhhhh-I” Yuuri gawked at the man for a moment, his arms flailing as he struggled to find the right words, then fixed his glasses and turned his eyes to the ground. 

Oh god, his mom was right, he was handsome. 

Shit, he was half naked and slightly wet and oh god-

“Thank you for taking suitcases here!” the handsome, half-naked man spoke in broken English, and smiled at Yuuri. His silvery hair seemed to sparkle in the light.“Is there no bigger room? Or sofa?”

“UHh-na-no-” Yuuri stuttered as the man looked at the room disapprovingly. “I’ve-I’ll just leave you to get settled. Please call if you need anything!” Yuuri said, his voice cracking as he slipped past the man, just barely colliding with his unclothed shoulder. 

The poodle barked again, as though saying goodbye. 

Yuuri ran to the kitchen, where his dad was cooking, and slid down the wall onto the floor. He buried his face in his hands, and screamed. His dad made sounds of acknowledgments in between each small scream or noise, all while happily cooking. It was a slow morning, so having his son in the kitchen with him was nice. 

“So, would you like to talk about it?” his dad asked gently, handing him a pork cutlet bowl and sitting down next to him. It was a little early for a pork cutlet bowl, but it seemed like it would help. 

“I-I just-” Yuuri sighed, staring down at the food. “It’s just …”

“You don’t need to talk about it if you don’t want to.” his dad patted his shoulder. “But, just remember we’ll always love you.”

“I know, dad. Thank you.” Yuuri smiled, and began eating. 

Yuuri spent the rest of the day deliberating whether or not he should approach the handsome man again. He could always look at the records and find his name there, but then wouldn’t it be awkward if he went up to him already knowing his name? Well, Yuuri did work there, and the handsome man was a customer. 

It wasn’t like the handsome man stayed at the hot springs the whole day, just lounging around. He probably had business he needed to take care of. And what would he even say? Hi, I think you’re hot, and I’m gay, wanna hang? Also, I like dogs? 

Yuuri groaned, resisting the urge to not smash his head against the walls. The handsome man probably wouldn’t stay longer than a few days too. Did Yuuri actually think he had a chance at something? 

Instead of thinking about the handsome man, he tries to read a book. Except after all this time of trying not to think of his book, he can’t focus on the story and thinks of his book. He only sees his flaws, only sees how much better this book was compared to his. Which isn’t rational, he realizes, since the book he’s reading is a slice of life young adult romance novel, and the book he wrote was a fantasy romance novel. 

He doesn’t try to continue reading. He’s lost, and even though he’s reading the words on the pages, he can’t understand them. He places the book on his nightstand, turns off the lights, and tries to sleep.

He can’t. 

This isn’t surprising. 

After thirty minutes of rolling over and tossing into various positions, he finally decides to try to write something. Anything. He would be happy just seeing text of random words instead of a white page. At the very least he would have created something. 

So Yuuri starts typing. The clicking relaxes him almost instantaneously, and his fingers type faster. 

Home. Ache. Pain. DOn’t know. WHat. sometihng. Book. story. Beach. Sea. dog. Dogs. handsome man. Poodle. Night. Sky. ocean. Detroit. Why. failing. Book. why. Pond. 

His vision blurs slightly, but he continues typing. 

I don’t know. Why this. I don’t remember. What. dog. Princes and ponds and the ocean. Why. failing story. Failing book. Me failing. College. Job. house. Home. ache. Pain. i can’t sleep. Sleep. Insomnia. Pork cutlet bowl. Meolody. Piano. Keyboard. Violin. Cna’t remember. Winter. Russia. Japan. America. Thialand. Sleep. Can’t remember. Wish i could why cna’t i . 

Yuuri’s face feels hot and wet. He sniffles.   
Book. story. Princes at a pond love happiness. Blue and pink and sparkling and silver and gold. All that glitters is gold only shooting stars break the mold. Movies. College. Shrek. Pot. brownies. Pork cutlet bowls. Home. a phantom pain, a ghosting ache. Fuck shit fuk Why cna’t i remember. I feel like i need to remember something. Why why why hwy hwwh wy why wh uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu

The morning sun breaks through the window. Yuuri rubs his eyes, and yawns. He taps the space bar on his laptop, and the screen lights up. He reads through what he wrote, and frowns.

He hoped he would write something poetic, at the very least. Yuuri sighs, but doesn’t delete the jibberish. He scrolls through his files absentmindedly, and finds a letter he wrote some years back to another author, asking if they would be his editor or something. He only skims through it. 

He can’t bring himself to delete the letter either. 

The next day, his mom says the handsome man left. Yuuri is somewhat glad he didn’t make an attachment to him. Yet there’s that same yearning. There’s that soft, incomplete melody that he can’t finish. 

Minako bursts through the front doors and screams for Yuuri. Yuuri jumps, almost dropping a meal for a guest. 

“Yuuri Katsuki!” Minako yells, and runs to him and thrusts a pen and book to his chest. “I bought your book, read your book, and now I want you to sign it.”

Yuuri looks at her, then to the pen and his book hesitantly.

“Are you sure?” Yuuri asks, the title The Lilac Fairy staring at him in bolded print. He feels sick just looking at it. 

“Yes,” Minako replies in a heartbeat. 

Yuuri uncaps the pen, and opens his book. He quickly signs his name and hands it back to Minako. 

“Is that it?” she deadpans, giving him a blank look. 

“What else does there need to be?” Yuuri asks, sighing. 

“Be more considerate of your fans, Yuuri!” Minako scowls, giving the book back to its author. “Write something nice, like “Thanks for reading!” or “Follow your dreams!”.” 

“But that’s not what the book is about!” Yuuri screams. “I spent so much time on a stupid idea that I turned into a book! I followed my dream, and see what’s happened? I failed. I failed, and had to come home. I’m not a good writer! Those are thousands of writers better than me out there!”

“Yuuri, you’ve won so many writing awards. You followed your dreams, and you became an author. You didn’t fail. You wrote a good book that’s slow at selling.” Minako gently says, but Yuuri throws off his apron and runs outside into the cold. 

“What about Viktor Nikiforov?” Minako shouts, running after him. 

“What about him?!” Yuuri shouts, stalking through unshoveled snow. 

“I know you remember him! When you were thirteen years old you went to New York to receive a writing award, and you meet Viktor! You always gushed about him! You always talked about his stories and how amazing they were!” Minako gasps Yuuri arm when he stops. “I know about how you used to text him.”

“How?” Yuuri gasped, turning to Minako with wide eyes.

“You were always giggling when you were on your phone. And sometimes you read out loud what he would say.” Minako grinned, but then sighed after a moment. “And I know you lost contact with him when he got busy.”

“I could never catch up to him now. He’s written so many amazing books since then. I’ve written one bad one.” Yuuri whispers, and Minako dries away his tears. “I can’t even stand to read his books now. All I see are my failures.”

“You don’t need to catch up with him.” Minako cups his cheeks and looks him straight in the eye. “So you need some polishing and practice. You can do it. I’ve seen you pull all-nighters and type away at your computer for hours on end working on a story. You’re no ordinary pork cutlet bowl.”

Yuuri chuckles, and then begins to laugh as the words sink in. There are more tears than Minako can dry, so she guides him back inside with her arm around his shaking shoulders. Minako wraps a blanket around him, and his dad is ready with a fresh pork cutlet bowl. 

“I’m surprised, Hiroko, that he didn’t recognize him.” Minako whispers to Hiroko as she cleans up the empty bowl by Yuuri’s sleeping figure. 

“I am too!” Hiroko gasps softly. “I knew Yuuri talked to Viktor during his high school years, but I didn’t know they lost contact.” 

Minako hums, and stares down at Yuuri for a moment. 

Suddenly, she has an idea. 

“Hiroko!” Minako follows after the shorter woman into the kitchen. “I have an idea!” 

Another week passed in relative ease. Yuuri started to spend less time at home and more outside after his outburst. Everything felt a little lighter, a little easier to grasp, and he didn’t think about his book. He started to dance with Minako again. Although he never put in a lot of practice as a child, he always did it as a hobby. 

Yet now when he danced the ache became present again. He would at times begin to move in a different direction than Minako would instruct, and the melody would ring out in his head even louder. 

“Go home and get some rest, Yuuri.” Minako suddenly said, sighing. 

“We just started, though,” Yuuri replied, confused. 

“If you have something on your mind, you can talk about it with me.” Minako walked to him and ruffled his hair. “I’m basically your aunt at this point.”

“And you can tell just by the way I’m dancing that there’s something on my mind?” Yuuri chuckled softly. 

“Of course I can.” Minako scowled. “I’m just trying to help you here.”

“And sending me away is helping me? I like dancing here with you.” Yuuri smiled, then turned back into dancing position. 

“But it’s not helping you.” Minako sighed again. “I don’t want you here because you think I need someone to teach. I still have a few students. It’s not many, but I enjoy teaching those who actually want to be taught.”

“Does this mean I’m a bad student?” Yuuri laughed, turning to face her again. 

“The worst, really.” Minako started to circle around him, and brought her hand up to stroke her chin. “Your posture is terrible, you don’t follow my instruction, and you even flub at performing a petit jete.” 

“My saute is pretty good, though.” Yuuri cheekily replied. 

They both laughed, and Yuuri leaves. Winter had arrived so fast after he returned home. He tries to think of the weather when he was last in Detroit, but he can’t remember. He’s not really sure how much time has actually passed either. 

He stands outside of the front door to his house, watching the snowflakes slowly fall. He hears the distant sound of running water, of a barking dog, of the cold wind. The ache is there again, and when he walks down the dark hallways to his room, he thinks he’ll be able to sleep tonight.

He dreams of a lilac fairy and a tiger. 

When he wakes up, the first thing he hears is yelling. Rubbing his eyes, he stumbles out of bed. He feels refreshed. The moment he walks out of his room, though, he instantly feels a headache coming through. 

“Viktor!” a young boy screams at the top of his damn lungs. “Viktor, you forgot your promise!” 

Yuuri rubs his forehead as he enters the dining room. Standing in the middle of the room is a young, blond boy screaming so loud the heavens could hear. It’s too early for this, Yuuri thinks. 

“You!” the boy, or teenager now that Yuuri really takes a look at him, jabs a finger in his direction. “You’re the one who made Viktor leave Russia again!” 

“I what now?” Yuuri asks, frowning down at the teenager. 

“You heard me, you pig!” the teenager scowled. “You sent Viktor some stupid letter about asking him to be your editor or some shit! Now he’s here!”

Viktor Nikiforov? Viktor Nikiforov was here, at this hot spring? Viktor Nikiforov, one of the world’s best selling novelists, was here to be his editor?!

Yuuri laughed. 

Then panic set in.

Yuuri stopped laughing. 

“Viktor promised me he would be the editor of my first novel, and I had to chase him down all the way here!” the teenager glared at Yuuri. “And for what? You’re just some second-rate writer who only wrote shitty short stories and then failed at his first novel!” 

Ah, Yuuri thought, he was underestimating him. 

“Well, I must be worth something if Viktor Nikiforov came all the way back here for me.” Yuuri smiled, and the teenager growled at him through clenched teeth. 

“You’re just a Japanese copy-cat without any talent.” the teenager sneered. 

“Japanese copycat?” Yuuri asked, suddenly confused by the insult. 

“My name is Yuri Plisetsky.” Yuri stared him straight in the eye. “There can’t be too Yuris on the top selling lists. You should retire already.” 

Suddenly, his name clicked. Yuri Plisetsky won awards for his short stories in New York for the same prestigious affiliations that both Yuuri and Viktor received when they were teenagers. Yuuri had also won other awards for his works throughout the years, but Yuri Plisetsky, as he’s heard, was a prodigy. 

The Russian punk had published novellas when Yuuri was only just winning awards for his short stories. Now, Yuri is almost ready to publish his debut novel. 

Yuuri’s head throbs. This feels like deja vu.


End file.
